While his bitterness toward Nashville is worn on his sleeve, his talent and musical chops are equally hard to miss. One minute Fulks can write a goofy country weeper, then an ode to Susanna Hoffs of the Bangles, and the next minute a tribute to infidelity and telling lies. As a result, Fulks has never had an easy time maintaining a record deal. His independent spirit and his all-over-the-board repertoire of material has made it difficult for any record company to package and sell him as a piece of commerce. Hence, Fulks has decided to do it himself.

Sadly, the product is tepid at best. By seeing what Fulks chooses to release without the filters of a record company, the listener gets a unique view into the artist's way of thinking. Judging by some of the somber and maudlin tracks, Fulks would like to be taken more seriously. The only problem is that he has painted himself into a corner as the court jester of country music, making any subsequent attempt at pouring his heart out ring hollow. There are some experimental noises. There are some great songs. And there are some songs where you might think to yourself, "What happened?"

Fulks' best tunes are his most self-conscious. To wit: no one in America is better at writing a novelty song than he. But it seems that if Fulks was once naive and sincere, he has since spent so much time being insincere that anything otherwise comes off as disingenuous. On Couples In Trouble, any highlight -- such as the John Denver-like featherbed stomper "Never Could" and "Banks of the Marianne" -- is met with a puzzling counterpart, such as "The Grip of Our Love" and "Real Money." In the end what we are left with is nothing short of the complete Robbie Fulks: the reigning enigma of country music.